


Don't You Worry

by softanticipation



Series: pillowtalk [2]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softanticipation/pseuds/softanticipation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe it was a bad idea to spend three months glued to each other's sides with preseason separation on the horizon. At least they're going to give the other a little something to remember them by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Worry

**Author's Note:**

> " _But the hard times are golden_  
>  Cause they all lead to better days.  
> We're gonna be alright."  
> Be Alright, Ariana Grande
> 
> Because I couldn't stop thinking about Tobin showing up to preseason with a hickey.

Two weeks, she keeps telling herself. Barely even that. Two weeks, and then they get to be together again.

She should have known that this was going to bite her in the ass. She should have known that being glued at the hip for nearly three straight months was a bad idea, and yet at no single point did she think that maybe they should take some time apart. 

Kelley calls it the honeymoon stage, to which Tobin pulls a face and denies it more vehemently than she ever responds to anything, which makes Christen suspect that Tobin knows it’s the truth. They’re smack dab in the middle of their honeymoon stage and these two weeks apart – only two weeks, if that, she reminds herself – might put a serious damper on the whirlwind that they’ve been caught up in. Forceful separation isn’t what they want and it’s not going to be easy, being apart for the first time since Tobin had shown up on her doorstep, and Christen knows it. She suspects that Tobin knows too, that they both know it’s not what they want and it might make them grumpy and it might test them more than two weeks apart should. 

So Christen tries to reason with her on the car ride back in from the city. They sit in the backseat of the car, Christen’s aunt and cousin animatedly talking about the day they’ve just had, and Tobin sits stonily with her eyes on the passing scenery and her arms folded uncharacteristically against her chest. 

“You know I’ll miss you, right?”

Tobin’s flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow, but she’s already touchy about it. Christen’s never gotten a chance to see this side of her: the sullen despondency that accompanies a Tobin about to be separated from someone she most definitely doesn’t want to leave. She idly wonders if Tobin has been like this with everyone she’s ever been with, or if Christen is just special, but she quickly pushes that thought out of her mind because she knows it doesn’t matter. 

“I know,” Tobin replies after an awkward beat during which Christen is afraid she won’t get any kind of response. “I’ll miss you too.”

Christen tentatively places a hand on Tobin’s thigh, not sure if she’ll take kindly to it or not. Thankfully she seems okay with it, exhaling loudly and placing her own hand on top of Christen’s after a long moment. Christen flips her hand over so that they’re palm to palm and Tobin immediately slides her fingers between Christens, fingertips pressing into her own leg. 

It’s not much, not when considering the level of contact Tobin prefers to maintain between the two of them, but it’s enough for Tobin’s breathing to level out while her shoulders slump and her head tilts to the side, pressing against Christen’s. 

“I’m tired,” Tobin murmurs, soft and private. Christen’s cousin has quieted and her aunt is on the phone, her uncle’s eyes steadfastly on the road ahead. It feels painfully intimate for a minute and it tugs at Christen’s heartstrings – she wants to gather Tobin into a hug and reassure her that it’s going to be okay and the distance isn’t going to ruin things. She thinks that maybe Tobin’s overreacting but then she thinks of the way her last relationship ended and she reconsiders, thinking that maybe Tobin’s just reacting on instinct, acting the way she is because she’s still a little raw on the surface despite both of their attempts to patch it up. She puts on a good show, Christen knows, but now she knows it exactly for what it is. It’s a show sometimes, except for the moments that Tobin feels comfortable sharing the truth. 

Luckily, Tobin shares the truth with Christen more often than not. 

So rather than insist that everything is going to be fine – because it will be, Christen just knows that it will be – she uses her free hand to press Tobin’s head down to her shoulder, stroking over her hair while clutching her hand tightly. 

“Try to sleep, maybe?” Christen suggests, even though she knows that the likelihood of Tobin falling asleep in a moving car is about the same as Christen suddenly deciding that this entire separation thing isn’t worth it. “Or just try to relax? I want you to sleep well tonight so that you won’t be tired in the morning.”

It’s dark outside already, the days only a little longer than they’re used to. The extra hour of sunlight helps, but they’d stayed in the city so late that the stars are already starting to twinkle bright in the sky above. Christen’s a little worried that Tobin will crash too early and then wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep, but she’s not sure why she’s worried – that’s not something that Tobin usually does. 

Regardless, she keeps Tobin awake. She plays with Tobin’s fingers, fiddling with her knuckles. Christen makes an idle comment about painting Tobin’s nails for her, to which Tobin whines lowly, something about not being able to sit still for that long. Which is ridiculous because she’s been still for the entire twenty-five minutes they’ve spent in the car so far, but Christen doesn’t say anything and instead presses a kiss to the top of Tobin’s head, hiding a chuckle. 

They’ve already eaten dinner, so when they get back to the house no one expects them to do anything but go up to bed. It’s not incredibly late, but it’s been a long day and Christen is thankful that her and Tobin can retreat to the bedroom they’ve been sharing without any questions asked or expectations to socialize for a little while more. 

“So do you have everything you need for the morning?” Christen asks, setting down her things and shrugging off her coat. “Passport, flight info – you can get your boarding pass downloaded on your phone, right? Do you want to do that now?”

“Christen,” Tobin says through a yawn, collapsing onto the bed that Christen had painstakingly made when they’d woken up that morning. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done this a million times.”

“I know,” Christen says, mildly indignant but only because sure Tobin knows that Christen knows she’s done this more than a million times. Tobin’s been on too many planes, in too many airports, in far too many cities in the world. Part of Christen hates it, hates that so many corners of the Earth have seen Tobin and gotten to know her before Christen ever did, but she’s always quick to realize how irrational that is and unfair it is for her to hold that against Tobin. “I just want us to be able to sleep in as long as we want without worrying about what we have to do before you leave.”

Tobin closes her eyes, reaching for a pillow that she shoves underneath her head. She tucks her hands underneath her chin and Christen knows damn well that Tobin doesn’t fall asleep like that. She’s not fooled, not by the way Tobin nuzzles into the pillow, nor by the way she sighs contentedly. 

“Tobin,” she whines, sitting down on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes. “Come on. You said that you wanted a shower before we went to bed. At least do that.”

Tobin groans some more, rolling onto her other side to face away from Christen. That doesn’t last long though, not before Tobin is sitting up and pushing her hair away from her face, leaning forward to press a kiss to the bow of Christen’s upper lip. 

“Will you do me a favor?” Tobin asks, her voice low and worn from their busy day. She stays close, eyes mostly shut as a small smile plays on her lips.

“Yeah,” Christen says, leaning forward to kiss Tobin softly. Tobin lets her for just a moment before she’s pulling back, crinkly-eyed and genuine but exhausted-looking. 

“Pack for me?” she asks. “Everything except what I’m wearing tomorrow.”

Christen frowns as Tobin slinks off the bed, getting up to grab her pajamas from where Christen had left them, neatly folded, on top of the dresser. 

“That’s not fair,” she begins to say, but Tobin is continuing on. 

“This way we’ll be able to maximize morning lying around time,” she tells Christen, toeing off her boots. “Smart, right?”

“How am I supposed to know what you’re wearing tomorrow?” Christen asks, too enamored to be truly exasperated. 

Tobin leans in, lips chasing Christen’s. Christen gives in too easily, always a sucker for the overwhelming warmth and comfort that Tobin’s kisses provide, and forgets for a moment that she’s supposed to be annoyed with Tobin’s presuming request. She remembers quickly enough though, detaching their lips before Tobin can completely distract her. 

Tobin is unusually good at that. 

“The black pants,” Tobin says, straightening. “And whatever shirt is clean. And the leather – “

“Jacket, I know,” Christen says, sighing, because she’d thought that maybe for once, just once, Tobin would have let her keep the leather jacket. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

“I know,” Tobin says, all sleepy smiles and messy hair as she goes into the attached bathroom. 

Christen isn’t too tired yet, so for the most part she doesn’t mind gathering all of Tobin’s things and folding them into her suitcase. It’s not that Tobin messy, or even that the two of them aren’t used to sharing a room, but something about their little trip has meant that their belongings have exploded all over the room. She finds a sneaker wedged underneath the nightstand and a sports bra in the corner by the floor vent. In Tobin’s suitcase is a shirt that Christen is pretty sure was hers at one point, and she considers taking it back until she sniffs it, determines that it’s clean and unworn, and decides to leave it out for Tobin to wear to the airport. 

The two of them might have a problem with sharing clothes, but Christen will never admit to it. Just like she’ll never admit that the sweatpants she’s been wearing to sleep all week were stolen right out of Tobin’s suitcase in Nashville.

She’s pretty sure Tobin stole them from the boxes of stuff Alex gets sent from Nike anyway, so does it really matter?

Christen’s finished packing and settling into her pajamas – she’ll shower in the morning, she decides – when she hears the shower turn off. It isn’t more than five minutes later that Tobin emerges, looking soft in an enormous t-shirt with her wet, tangled hair dripping down over her right shoulder. 

“Let me do your hair,” Christen says, and Tobin only raises an eyebrow before she’s bringing her a brush and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Christen moves forward until she’s behind Tobin, pulling at her hair and working the brush through it. 

“What are you doing?” Tobin asks. 

“Braiding your hair,” Christen says, concentrating on a particularly stubborn tangle. 

“No, I mean once I leave,” Tobin clarifies.

“Oh,” Christen says, looking up from the knot to see Tobin’s jaw working furiously – a clear sign that she’s anxious. “Nothing, probably. I’ll kick the ball around a little, sleep, hang out with my aunt. Why?”

Tobin shrugs her shoulders and Christen quickly presses into one with her hand to keep her from moving any more. 

“What’s up?” Christen asks, making sure that there aren’t anymore tangles. She combs her hands through Tobin’s damp hair, taking care to massage her scalp a little as she goes. Tobin leans into her hands, and Christen smiles fondly. 

“I’m just really missing you already,” Tobin says, a little mumble that Christen barely catches. 

“It’s just for a couple of weeks,” Christen says as reassuringly as she can, tilting Tobin’s head back further to gather enough hair to start the braid. 

“I know, but I don’t like thinking of what you’ll be doing without me,” Tobin says. Even with her eyes closed, the pout she puts on is adorable. 

“Lot’s of practicing,” Christen tells her, holding back a chuckle. “Same as you.”

“Yeah, but see, I’m used to practicing with you,” Tobin says, pout deepening. “This time it’s different.”

Christen hums, weaving hair together from the sides of Tobin’s head. Tobin stays miraculously still, back stiff from holding herself up, but Christen knows that she likes this. Tobin likes it when Christen does her hair for her – even if she just runs her fingers through it all. She’d whispered to her once, late at night in between camps, that she liked the way Christen took care of her, to which Christen had blushed and fervently denied that Tobin needed taking care of in the first place. 

Tobin’s capable of being on her own, Christen knows. Just because she no longer wants to be doesn’t mean that she can’t do it. 

“Yeah, but it’s good preparation for the season,” Christen tells her, fingers tugging at unruly tendrils of drying hair. “I mean, I know we’ve got camps and stuff and then Rio, but we’ve still got to spend time with our own teams. Just try not to worry about it.”

“How is it that for once, I’m the worried one and you’re the one reassuring me?” Tobin asks, the words rolling lazily off her tongue as she can barely be bothered to open her mouth and enunciate. “Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“Usually, yeah,” Christen says, leaning to the side to see the ghost of a smile crossing Tobin’s face. “Nice change though, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Tobin says, wrinkling her nose playfully, and opening her eyes, turning to the side to catch Christen’s gaze. “Doesn’t it get stressful, being this worried all the time?”

Christen rolls her eyes, moving her head back so she can focus on Tobin’s hair again. 

“It’s not like I want to be,” she tells Tobin, the French braid finally nearing the nape of her neck, her fingers running out of hair to pull in. “It just happens.”

“I know,” Tobin says, reaching back to hold Christen’s left wrist with her thumb and forefinger, stilling her movements. “I’m just kidding.”

Christen lets Tobin pull her wrist forward, using her right hand to hold the braid where it is. Tobin kisses the underside of Christen’s wrist, right where the skin grows pale and the tendons flex. She holds onto it for a moment, lips lingering, before releasing her grip. 

“Love you,” Tobin says, and something feels like it’s shifted. They’re both still sleepy and neither of them are looking forward to the morning and what it brings, but something about Tobin’s action settles something in the both of them. It changes the atmosphere from one of tense anticipation to one of tender appreciation, and Christen’s heart feels something fierce as she bites back an enormous smile. 

“Love you too,” Christen says back after a moment, finishing Tobin’s braid with fast but fumbling fingers. It’s not as neat towards the end as it could be, but she just wants to fall asleep with Tobin in her arms and take their time together for what it is: immeasurably precious. 

When Christen ties off the end and announces that she’s done, Tobin moves a hand back to feel along the braid. It looks a little unnatural on her, nothing that she’d ever wear outside, but in the dim lighting of the bedroom it somehow softens the angles of her face and makes Christen’s heart skip a beat. 

“I’m taking this out in the morning, you know,” Tobin says, like she’s placating Christen by letting her get her hands on her in the first place, even if they both know that’s not the case at all. 

“I know,” Christen says, yawning and moving to get off the mattress. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Tobin says, already up and searching for her phone, which Christen knows is probably still in the pocket of her jacket from earlier. She doesn’t tell her that, instead deciding to wait until she figures it out for herself. 

Of course, Tobin can’t figure it out, so once Christen is wearing her glasses and has brushed her teeth, she does her girlfriend the favor of retrieving it for her. 

“Here,” she says, tossing it carefully at Tobin who is already curled up under the covers and waiting for Christen to join her. 

“Thanks, babe,” Tobin says, already plugging the phone in. 

“Do you need me to set an alarm for you?” Christen asks, grabbing her phone off the nightstand before sitting on the bed. “What time do you want to get up? I think you’ve got to leave by – “

It isn’t exactly surprising when Tobin reaches over to gently wrestle the device away and place it back where it came from, but it still makes Christen’s heart pound with excitement. She’s rewarded for her lack of protest when Tobin’s hand curves around her jaw, turning her face to bring it to her own. Instead of joining their mouths, Tobin presses their foreheads together and looks into Christen’s eyes. It’s a little awkward because Christen is still wearing her glasses and Tobin looks like she’s going cross-eyed with her efforts, but neither of them care very much about things like that. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Tobin says, and Christen is a little shocked at the way her voice catches in her throat. It’s not like Tobin to showcase her emotions in such a serious way: she usually delivers everything with a very Tobin-like sort of nonchalance that Christen knows is only because she cares so much and doesn’t know how to show it. “Will you miss me?”

“Of course,” Christen says, wondering how on Earth Tobin could think that she wouldn’t. “I miss you already.”

“Me too,” Tobin says, and it’s a good thing that she’s leaning in even closer because Christen’s ready to do it herself if she has to, ready to sacrifice a conversation about feelings if it means that she gets to kiss Tobin like she hasn’t gotten a chance to all day. 

It’s tired and comforting, reassuring the both of them in a way that words can’t. Christen knows that their worries are irrational, she knows that Tobin knows their worries are irrational, but the fact remains that they’re about to be apart for the first time in a long time and it’s looming overhead like a scary monster. 

Tobin kisses Christen languidly, the day’s exhaustion showing with every drag of her tongue and every time she presses in closer until she’s nearly falling against Christen. It makes Christen giggle against Tobin’s mouth, and it isn’t long before they’re both smiling into the kiss and making it impossible to continue. 

“Maybe we should go to bed,” Christen suggests. 

“But I like kissing you,” Tobin whines, pushing her face into Christen’s neck. Christen lets her stay there, stretching out her arm as far it can go until she’s reclaimed her phone. Tobin stays where she is as Christen sets them an alarm for the morning, early enough to plan for any potential traffic. It feels a little like a child is clinging to her, only Tobin’s hands aren’t fisted in her shirt and she weighs substantially more. 

“Come on,” Christen says, once she’s finished. She nudges Tobin’s side, trying to encourage her to get up. “If you’re going to insist on staying on my side of the bed – again, might I add – then at least let me get comfortable first.”

Tobin must be more exhausted than Christen has ever seen her because she actually protests, nipping at the skin of Christen’s neck and lowly whining about not wanting to move. 

“I’m comfy,” Tobin tells Christen, her voice muffled and barely intelligible. It’s only because Christen has heard Tobin speak with a mouthful of toothpaste so many times that she can interpret. “Just lie down, I’ll go with you.”

Christen tries not to huff for effect, not truly irritated enough to push the issue any further. Part of her is enjoying the way Tobin is stuck to her, refusing to move just for a split second. She just maneuvers as though Tobin isn’t where she is, and by the time she’s laid down and has successfully pulled the blankets up over their bodies, Tobin’s rhythmic breathing has slowed enough to tell Christen that if she’s not already asleep, she will be soon. 

“Tobin,” Christen whispers, reaching out an arm to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. The room turns dark instantly, and Christen’s eyes quickly adjust to trace the outline of Tobin’s figure. “Tobin are you awake?”

Tobin just make a noise, burrowing further into Christen’s neck and throwing an arm over her waist. 

Christen waits a moment, holding her breath to try and see if Tobin’s asleep yet. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, moving a hand to hold the one of Tobin’s that is limply hanging by her own side. She doesn’t think that Tobin is awake – she’s pretty sure she’s fast asleep by now and can’t hear her – but she doesn’t care. Christen isn’t worried about Tobin hearing, because she knows that Tobin knows. She’s being a little selfish, saying it mostly for her own benefit. 

“I love you too.”

It’s soft but crystal clear and it makes Christen close her eyes and relax instinctively, falling asleep almost immediately. 

*

Christen likes her alarms. 

She always sets one and only one that she always wakes up for immediately, because she knows that pressing the snooze button is a recipe for bad sleep habits. She never wakes up before her alarm, never sleeps through it. She’s used the same song as her alarm for years now without fail. 

So when she wakes up and doesn’t immediately hear the soft strumming of a guitar that she’s used to, she panics. 

It lasts for approximately five seconds, which doesn’t seem very long, but it’s enough to distract her from the the substantial weight on top of her and the lips brushing along her collarbone, exposed by the stretched out neck of her t-shirt. When she finally comes to, her heart rate not even getting to normalize before skyrocketing again, she curses uncharacteristically and can practically feel Tobin smirking against her skin. 

“What time is it?” Christen asks immediately, before she can get swept up in the way one of Tobin’s hands is resting hot and heavy on her hip. “You know we’ve got to – “

“Shh,” Tobin hushes her, lifting her head so her eyes can bore down into Christen’s. Her pupils are dilated despite the hazy rays of light coming in through the window that they’d neglected to pull the curtains over, and something flips in Christen’s stomach. “You’ve got time.”

Less than three months ago, Christen would have panicked and turned over, fighting Tobin off and lunging for her phone to see the time for herself, just to make sure. 

But now she trusts Tobin, trusts that Tobin won’t make them run late for her flight, so she reaches up to tangle a hand in Tobin’s hair – she’s undone the braid already, _of course_ – and bring her close. Tobin goes eagerly, slotting her lips between Christen’s without a care in the world outside of what exists between them. 

“What’s this about?” Christen mumbles against Tobin who is already trying to snake her tongue into Christen’s mouth. 

“Making up for what we should have done last night,” Tobin pants out, settling her hard body into the length of Christen’s, pressing down and making Christen’s brain short circuit. All she can think of is all the warmth overwhelming her from head to toe, her senses going blank for a second as Tobin slowly, roughly grinds their hips together. “I was too tired then but I’m not missing a chance to say goodbye to you.”

It’s a marked change from the night before, and Christen knows that she’ll have to have a word with Tobin about her coping methods later, but for the time being she lets herself get lost in the way Tobin’s ample lower lip feels when caught between her own teeth. It makes Tobin groan, hips digging further until Christen’s regretting the clothing separating them. 

“Maybe we should leave each other more often,” Christen breathes into Tobin’s mouth, ready to align their lips so she can kiss the hell out of her girlfriend while they still have the chance. 

Only that doesn’t go according to plan, because Tobin freezes and stares down at Christen with distressing alarm.

“Hey, I’m just kidding,” Christen says, shooting up her free hand to cup Tobin’s face. “Totally kidding. After this, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Tobin blinks slowly, eyelashes brushing against well-defined cheekbones before arching upwards towards furrowed brows. 

“Promise?” she says, her voice strong but searching. 

“Promise,” Christen tells her earnestly, sweeping a thumb over the hollow of Tobin’s cheeks. She prays that she’s given Tobin what she needs, and feels relieved when Tobin moves towards her. 

It’s lazy and feverish at the same time, the way Tobin kisses her. There’s a sense of urgency battling with the want to take the time to enjoy every second they have, and Christen just lets Tobin take the lead because she isn’t sure that she wants to tip the scale either way. Tobin rocks her pelvis against Christen’s aggravatingly slow, like it’s a bit of an afterthought that comes second to the way she kisses in a way that’s sure to leave Christen’s mouth red and bruised for hours to come. It’s hard, the way Tobin keeps Christen close, but she searches Christen’s mouth with languid strokes of her tongue along the roof of her mouth to the subtle swell of her lips. It’s not that Christen means to give up control, but Tobin seems to be reveling in her newfound sense of command, and it isn’t long before she’s trailing kisses along Christen’s jawline and down her neck. 

She might not arch her back and moan loud enough for the rest of the house to hear, but Christen reacts plenty. Tobin lightly drags teeth over tensed muscle and fragile skin and Christen barely swallows frustrated but delighted little noises that have Tobin responding, licking at her collarbones until she reaches the little notch at the top of her sternum. It’s there that Tobin stops, focusing her attention once Christen squirms noticeably. Christen can’t be blamed for the way she opens her legs, letting one of Tobin’s fall between hers and rewarding her with just enough friction to stop from whining out loud. 

“Stop,” Christen whispers, even though that’s the last thing she wants. “I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

Tobin pauses for a second, lifting her head just a smidge so that her nose still brushes along the front of Christen’s neck. Christen can practically hear her ears straining. 

“I think we’re good,” Tobin tells her, her moving lips making contact with Christen’s skin with every syllable. “It’s early. I don’t think they’re awake yet.”

“I know, but still. It’s embarrassing if they do,” Christen says, trying to explain but getting distracted by the way Tobin’s teeth gently capture her collarbone between them. She doesn’t bite down, just holding them there for a second before her mouth is closing and her teeth are tucked away, sloppy wet kisses pressed to the delicate skin there. 

“They won’t,” Tobin mutters, trailing along bone to a shoulder. “Not if you keep it down, at least.”

Something about the way she says it burns low and hot in Christen’s stomach, and she’s squirming so that Tobin has to gently press at her hips to get her to stay still. She’s focused on Christen’s other shoulder now, moving up to lightly bite into firm muscle.

“Ow,” Christen tells her mindlessly. 

“That didn’t hurt,” Tobin tells her right back – and she’s right, it didn’t. 

But then she’s sucking _hard_ on that spot at the top of her sternum. It takes Christen by surprise, hands clenching suddenly. It’s so intense that it borders on painful, Tobin letting her sharp teeth come out to play and scrape over the area. 

“Fuck,” is all that Christen can think to gasp out, singularly focused on the way Tobin is still sucking like a vampire, as though her life depends on it. 

When she draws away she looks strangely smug, but Christen doesn’t even register it because she’s pulling Tobin’s mouth to hers and desperately kissing her. It’s wet and unsophisticated, and any remaining reservations Christen may have been holding onto disappear so that she can curl her fingers around Tobin’s ribcage until they’re all pressed together, the proximity dizzying and the spot on her chest throbbing with the effects of longing and love and the need to prove something. She doesn’t care that Tobin seems to be half a step behind her, mind still catching up as she fumbles to coordinate their mouths while Christen is already trying to turn Tobin’s head to the side in an attempt to latch onto an earlobe. She catches just a hint of Tobin’s sweet lips between hers before she’s biting carefully, grinning winningly when she feels Tobin’s chest swell with a groan from above her. 

It’s not a far trip from Tobin’s ear down and slightly behind to the dip in her skull where her jawline ends. It’s not hard for Christen to bite hard and quick, tasting clean skin and something very uniquely Tobin before sucking and then licking over the same spot. She’s preoccupied, too busy retaliating against Tobin for what she’s done to her chest to think about what she’s doing when she trails down her neck just a little, staying high as she does it all again.

“Come here,” Tobin complains, growling low in her throat as she tears herself away from Christen’s mouth only to seal their lips together, instantly pushing her tongue inside like she tends to do when caught up in the moment. 

Only then, finally, comes the soft strumming that always without fail makes Christen jolt upwards. This time is no different, except that it sends Tobin reeling backwards. 

“Fuck!” Tobin exclaims, scrambling to sit up while holding a hand to her face. “I think you just broke my nose!”

Christen wants to feel bad, she truly does, but there’s no sign of blood which means that Tobin’s face is more than likely fine, and the whole thing is too comical to pass up laughing at. 

“It’s not funny!” Tobin protests – which of course, only makes Christen laugh louder as she reaches over to turn off the alarm. “Stop laughing at me! It hurts! Chris - fine, I’m leaving.”

She does just that, haughty in the way she unfolds herself and ambles to the bathroom. Christen stops laughing, just for a moment that’s long enough for her to hear Tobin mumbling to herself in the mirror. Taking pity on her, Christen gets up as well and makes the short walk to join her. 

“I’m sorry,” Christen says, leaning over to kiss the corner of Tobin’s mouth. It takes a bit of maneuvering considering the way Tobin is poking and prodding at her face, but it’s worth the smile that Tobin fails to hide from her. “It wasn’t funny.”

Tobin mumbles some more as Christen reaches for her toothbrush. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

Tobin says it while Christen’s got a mouthful of toothpaste foam so she can’t say anything in return – she’s not like Tobin, she’s got manners most of the time. Instead she raises her eyebrows in question, making eye contact in the mirror. 

“Look,” Tobin says with emphasis, turning her head to the side and – 

Oh. 

Yeah, Tobin might kill her. 

Christen blushes, rushing to finish brushing and rinse her mouth so she can speak. She looks at Tobin who is examining the few deep red marks littering the side of her neck, a mix of horror and intrigue on her face. 

“I swear I didn’t mean to,” is the first thing Christen says once her mouth is clean. 

“Still going to kill you,” Tobin says absently. 

“They’ll fade,” Christen reasons, overcome the sudden urge to press her fingertips into the marks. She resists, instead fiddling with the neckline of her shirt. 

“At least I didn’t give you one where everyone is going to see,” Tobin notes, looking down at Christen’s chest. Confused, Christen’s eyes follow her gaze to find an enormous hickey sucked into her sternum, ugly and violent but low enough that Tobin’s right, no one will see it. “I’m going to get so much shit for this.”

Christen bites her lip, torn between amusement and apology. She’s only a little bothered by the mark that Tobin’s left on her but it’s not exactly a surprise to begin with – she’d been able to feel it blooming as it was happening, even though she’d been too caught up in it all to want to stop Tobin from continuing. 

“Maybe wear a scarf?” Christen offers weakly, but Tobin sends her a derisive look as she reaches for her own toothbrush. “I think that Google might have a few home remedies. Look, I’ll wear a v-neck if it makes you feel better.”

Tobin shakes her head, squeezing toothpaste out. 

“Don’t bother,” she says, and it’s easy to find the affection in her tone. “It’s fine. I’ll get shit for it but I don’t care.”

Christen wraps her arms around Tobin’s middle from the side, and Tobin switches her toothbrush to her other hand so she can hug Christen properly. 

“I miss you already,” Christen tells her, nose pressed to Tobin’s shirt. She feels like it’s all they’ve talked about: their impending separation and how they’ll deal with it, and she always promised herself that she wouldn’t become a sap who couldn’t deal with being without her significant other, but she suddenly understands what it’s like to have someone to miss while gone. She half expects Tobin to speak through a mouthful of toothpaste as she usually does, but instead Tobin only holds her tighter.

Later on, after Christen has showered and they’ve both eaten breakfast and they’re on the way to the airport, Christen glances to her right to see Tobin intently peering at herself in the visor mirror, head angled towards Christen. 

“I kind of like it,” Tobin says after a moment, holding her hair back to get a good look at her neck. “I mean, I think my hair will hide it if I leave it down, but I kind of like it.”

“Seriously?” Christen asks in disbelief.

Tobin shrugs, sweeping her hair forward to fall over her right shoulder, effectively hiding her neck from view as she sits back in her seat and flips the mirror closed. 

“I mean, at first I was going to kill you,” she says, but it’s with a grin that gives away what Christen had already suspected, which is that Tobin was never truly mad to begin with. “But I don’t know, I like it.”

“You like it,” Christen repeats. “You actually _like_ the fact that I accidentally left a hickey on you where anyone can see it. Just – why? How?”

Tobin just shrugs again, bringing up her socked feet to rest on the dash. Christen looks at them but doesn’t say anything. 

“There might more than one,” Tobin says, straining forward and opening the mirror again to look. “I don’t know, they’re kind of faint, but they’re there. Think they’ll be gone before I’m due at preseason?”

“Maybe,” Christen says hopefully, glancing sideways again. It’s hard to keep her eyes on the road when she’s got Tobin next to her, looking soft but alert and strangely fascinated with an unintentional hickey high on her neck. It’s distracting and the struggle to keep her eyes on the road is one that she doesn’t mind fighting. “I’m serious, I’ll wear a v-neck if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t,” Tobin says, slumped in her seat once again. “It’s fine. I’m not mad about it. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Christen says, heart swelling with emotion as Tobin reaches over a hand to rest on her thigh. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“I know,” Tobin says, smiling fondly at her. “I was just being annoying yesterday.”

“You were worried,” Christen justifies, taking her right hand off the steering wheel to place on top of Tobin’s. Tobin flips her hands over, and their fingers fit between each other’s effortlessly. “You’re allowed to be.”

“I’m not worried anymore,” Tobin says, and when she looks at Christen like that, with her enormous smile and crinkly eyes, it’s hard to keep the car from swerving. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Christen scolds, forcibly moving her eyes to the road. “Or else we’re never going to make it to the airport.”

“Looking at you like what?” Tobin wants to know. “What, like I love you? Because I can’t stop that, you know.”

Christen smiles, fingers squeezing Tobin’s. 

“I’ll see you in like, two weeks,” she says, reassuring Tobin as much as she’s reassuring herself. 

“We’ll be alright,” Tobin says convincingly, and as much as Christen believes it, she can tell that Tobin believes it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know!


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